


Mistletoe

by Aprixot



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-19 09:37:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aprixot/pseuds/Aprixot
Summary: Russia is left out of America's yearly Christmas party. Though, America makes a very personal appearance in Russia's home.
Relationships: America & Russia (Hetalia), America/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Um, well, Christmas is over.  
> (Also thank you DrunkenRussian for the proper translation hoho!)

It was a dark, cold night. The sun set early and the flowing chill of constant air creeped over Ivan’s form, even if he was snuggled tightly against himself on the wooden chair. His sisters were invited to the American’s party through friends that were going, since Alfred didn’t dare try to contact the Slavic nations anymore, he just relied on his friends to do it for him, Ivan guessed.

Huh.

  
Ivan hummed a folk song from his “childhood”, though even that couldn’t heal the sick feeling in his empty chest.

  
So much for Christmas cheer… Ivan thought, looking around at the muted colors of red and green dancing around the room. It all nicely matched the fire brewed in the center of a classic brick fireplace, which was also decorated with empty stockings.

  
Tik, tik, tik

  
Ivan shifted in the chair and brought the blanket closer to him. A branch kept hitting his window from a stronger gust of wind. It began to become annoying.

  
Tik, tik-tik-tik, tik.

  
It tapped the window in a disorganized rhythm. Ivan sighed and his eyebrows arched in a half-hearted frustration. Really, he was too busy searching for the emotions he was supposed to be feeling.

  
Tik-tik-tik-tiktiktiktiktik.

  
A weird branch. Ivan stood, first putting his mug of cold tea on a nearby table, and went to investigate, maybe break the branch off.

  
Ivan approached the window. It was bordered by snow and was ice-cold to the touch. Ivan cleared the frosts’ fog coating his thick window. It took some effort to pull the frozen locks apart and swing open the window towards himself.

  
The cold wind was a harbinger to the loud crash of something jumping through the open window into Ivan’s chest.

  
“ух ты*!” Ivan reacted, surprised, as he certainly didn’t expect an animal to jump through.

“Ivan!” A familiar America shouted.

  
Maybe a part of Ivan hoped it was him.

  
Ivan caught the American as Alfred clutched onto Ivan’s shoulders.

  
A wave of emotion washed over the Russian as he supported the man, “Alfred?”

  
Alfred was dressed in the whole garb. Red, white, and, well, that’s it. Festive.

  
Alfred turned to close the window, “It’s mad cold out there! Yikeys!”

  
Ivan looked from the blanket of snow covering the entire landscape to Alfred, “What are you doing here?”

  
“I didn’t see you at the party, dude!” Alfred frowned, though quickly returned to his charming face.

  
Ivan closed the gap between them and began toying with Alfred’s sleeves as he responded, “I wasn’t invited.”

  
Alfred frowned again.

  
“What do you mean? I have it right he- oh.”

  
Ivan couldn’t help but chuckle, of course. Alfred groaned and palmed himself in the head.

  
Ivan cupped Alfred’s plump face in his scarred hands--

  
“Jesus, bro, you’re hands are so cold!” Alfred squealed, then pulled his gloves off and pushed them into Ivans, “--This is how warm they should be!”

  
Alfred failed to comprehend the situation. Ivan, though, was flushed in a warm red from ear to ear. If it was the freezing air that entered his home or that American, being so close to Ivan.

  
Alfred ran his hands into Ivan’s sleeves and traces his forearm. Alfred’s hair draped and swayed in front of his eyes.

  
“Hey Ivan? You still there?” Alfred cleared the silence… and also the space between them.

  
Ivan felt helpless.

  
Maybe he was thankful for that.

  
No, no. He was absolutely thankful.

  
Alfred pushed his face into Russia’s scarf. When he spoke, he was barely audible.

  
“I got another gift for you…” Alfred giggled. He retracted a hand from one of Russia’s sleeves and was holding something in an enclosed fist.

  
Alfred pushed it into the Russian’s open palm, then folded their fingers over it.

  
“I can’t believe you’re growing mistletoe around here!”

  
“... What...?”

  
Alfred giggled in response and weaved his arms around Ivan’s back.

  
“... Oh…”

  
Ivan almost froze as he opened his hand. He felt his knees weak and his fingers twitch. He could only stand, mouth agape, hearing his heart beat in his ears.

  
Alfred rested his head against Ivan’s shoulder in wait for Ivan to relax.

  
Ivan rested his chin on Alfred’s head.

Alfred looked upwards though his eyes still closed in bliss, “Soo? Where’s my gift?”

  
Ivan smiled and turned his head to press his check against Alfred’s forehead, “I don’t know, Котёнок**.”

  
Alfred let out a disappointed grumble. He was fiddling with Ivan’s scarf; as if his fingertips were dancing with the old, repaired fray, of the ends.

  
“Do you want tea? Ah… coffee?” Ivan patted down Alfred’s coat and brushed off the sheet of snow littering the fur-mimicking material.

  
Alfred shrugged, “It’s hella cold out there, maybe. Or, y’know, you could just cuddle with me.”

  
“‘Hella?’” Ivan responded simply.

  
“You’re avoiding my suggestion!”

  
“It’s silly.”

  
Alfred groaned and pulled away from Ivan. The American unbuttoned his coat and laid by the fire, which by now, was a smaller flame relying on the embers for warmth. Ivan pouted, realizing the disappearance of Alfred’s body heat, and trailed after him.

  
“What this?” Alfred sniffed at Ivan’s tea and invited himself to take a sip (which he promptly spat out).

  
“Cold tea.”

  
“Like ice tea?”

  
“No.”

  
Alfred shrugged and took another sip (which he also spat out).

  
Ivan sat on his knees in front of the American, though was poking at the dying fire.

  
Alfred rested his head on Ivan’s back, “I’m tired.”

  
“Then sleep,” Ivan chuckled as he began to slowly start enjoying the man’s presence more.

  
Alfred hummed, which Ivan guessed was some English Christmas song, and retorted quickly, “I’m not sleeping until I get my kiss.”

  
Ivan straightened his back in a blushed discomfort. He wanted to satisfy Alfred’s wishes, though couldn’t bring himself to make the move.

  
Ivan turned and immediately made eye contact with Alfred. Ivan shifted as he was sitting and hid his face in his scarf.

Alfred reached for Ivan’s hand and began to trace the creases carefully.

Ivan listened to the brushing of Alfred’s fingertips against his dry palms. It was quiet. Alfred had drunk the rest of his tea reluctantly, and Ivan let him.

  
The wind whistled as throttled across the window, the fire crackled in an odd succession of another uneven pattern formed by its flames.

  
Alfred let his head roll forward in his tire, “Hey Ivan…”

  
Ivan looked to him, his hand still held by Alfred’s, and brushed loose hairs from Alfred’s face.

  
Alfred pulled Ivan’s scarf down, which revealed Ivan’s jaw and the top of his neck.

  
“Come here…” Alfred’s words rolled off his tongue. His eyes were half-open, though just enough to be able to focus on Ivan’s violet eyes.

  
Ivan leaned over. He came close to Alfred’s face because the American refused to retreat and Ivan made the mistake of leaning in too eagerly.

  
Alfred didn’t say anything. He was laying on his stomach and his elbows propped himself up to meet Ivan’s face.

  
Seconds multiplied and Ivan’s heartrate skyrocketed as Alfred met Ivan’s lips. Ivan couldn’t even realize what had happened until Alfred shifted forward and Ivan’s back met the floor rug. Alfred’s hand forcibly gripped the back of Ivan’s hair and pulled him forward. Ivan’s arms slipped under Alfred’s and harnessed Alfred to his chest.

  
Alfred turned to press his lips against Ivan’s. Alfred passionately kissed Ivan, who could only bring himself to minimally cooperate. Ivan’s throat was tight and his mind ran questions of disbelief. Alfred couldn’t help but giggle after brushing Ivan’s bottom lip with his tongue.

  
Ivan brought his head down for a breath. His eyes opened briefly to closely see Alfred’s blemished face and starry blue eyes.

  
Ivan buried his head into Alfred’s neck, which surprised Alfred. Alfred readjusted and held the Russian in his arms. Alfred rubbed Ivan’s back in a loving manner.

  
Ivan wanted to cry, he wanted to tell Alfred just how appreciative he was, and show Alfred how much more he was, but nothing could come off the tip of his tongue. A part of Ivan was overwhelmingly happy.

  
Ivan relished in the unnatural warmth he could only describe as plague-like. Yet he wanted no remedy.

  
Alfred craned his neck and rested his head on Ivan’s shoulder and began to fall asleep amongst the warm of Ivan’s body.

  
Ivan smiled and held the American against his chest delicately.

  
“Thank you, Alfred… Thank you.”

*expression of surprise  
((edit))**endearing term; means kitten


End file.
